Vox in Vires
by Void Sorcerer
Summary: Hate, Love, Joy, Sadness, Pain, Pleasure, Pride, Honor, Freedom, Imprisonment. How can you choose your fate when it has been laid out before you? What do you do, when to defeat that which you hate, you must become that which you seek to destroy?
1. Prologue

**Vox**** in ****Vires**

Power in Strength

The cool air swept across his face as he took in his surroundings. He shivered in delight as the view of the carnage swept over him. It had begun today; his time would soon be at hand. The carrions had already begun to consume by the time he left, and by the time word reached officials, not a trace remained.

He wandered the town, the smells of the night assaulting his nose as he considered his next move. He had a destination in mind, but to get there he was more than willing to walk. Sure, magic would have gotten him there sooner, but he was patient and could wait 'til the right time to strike.

He noted what he saw in his mind, the good things, the bad things... he marked it all, taking in every last detail. He hated it all.

In time, he would deal with these incompetent fools; their corruption and stupidity would be their downfall, and he would be the cause. After all, in the race for the finish line, he was always one step ahead.

He caught sight of them following him as he made his way around the next bend, and his pace quickened. His appearance would be the entire message they would need; it would spark a flame, a flame he was all too willing to put out.

He stepped into the alley and his eyes flashed as they surrounded him, the moonlight reflecting off their hooded figures, drawing dark shadows to the alley. Six in total he counted as they reached for their wands.

"You're not welcome here Potter, leave now or we will be forced to take action!"

The voice was gruff, echoing off the brick walls, shattering the silence of the night air.

"Surely you are not serious; I've only just arrived and have yet to even speak with my friends." His voice was ice, lacking any sort of emotion, bringing with it the chill of the North, striking fear into their hearts; and then he struck.

He smirked as he watched the hooded figures hit the ground, their mouths crying out in protest as their knees collided with the concrete; the force of his telepathy being too much for these weak minded fools to handle.

The brief flash of light alerted him to the danger, and in a dark swirl of colors he vanished, only to re-appear a few steps to the left. The beam illuminated the darkened area as it flew to his right, leaving a red hue hanging about them. Clearly he had underestimated them.

A brief 'pop' alerted him to the assailants' presence behind him, and with a sharp flick of his wrist he was able to send the incoming jinx back their way. He would not be taken by surprise again.

The assailant leapt to the left, narrowly avoiding the ricocheted spell and quickly recovered with a dissolving curse. The figures shield illuminating just in time to prevent the spells he himself had sent the figures way.

His wand tip glowed brighter and brighter as he slowly advanced, his waves of magic slowly pushing the figure further and further into the alley. The agility of his opponent surpassed even him, but when backed into a corner, it would count for nothing.

His eyes flashed as his bone-breaker smashed through his opponents shield and hit the mark, the figures right thigh. The high pitched scream giving away the figures gender, and with a banisher he sent her flying into the wall, her head making a sickening crash as it connected into the brick wall.

'It begins' was the only thought that came to mind, and with a quick slash of his wand and a flash of green light, it was over.

At the sound of footsteps he turned, the others had recovered from his mental attack, and from the looks of it were in a fury of being dispatched so easily.

He laughed as he sent the corpse of the woman flying back towards them, her body the perfect shield against the curses they sent his way. With a swirl of his dark cloak he was gone, his message being born on swift wings to the Ministry and to his true targets.

Nymphadora Tonks was dead, but more importantly, Harry Potter was back!


	2. Chapter One: Risk

**Chapter One:**

**Risk**

The paper fell to the ground, its pages scattering in the dust as he made his way slowly up the hill. This was not what he had planned, not what he had planned at all. The fact that the Ministry was still as ignorant as when he had left made his insides burn with rage.

He sighed as he stopped and gathered his surroundings. It would not do well to head off angry; he would make mistakes, mistakes he could not afford to make.

The trees had thinned out as he climbed higher; the foliage became less dense, hiding nothing. The mouth of the cave stood before him now, its dark passage seemingly going on forever into the mountain's depths.

A calming breeze swept across the mountain, it's cool air blowing against his immobile body, calming his frazzled nerves. The mere thought alone of these creatures sent shivers up and down his spine, he had fought them before, and he had lost.

The iron fist of his resolve won out in the end however, he was older now, and he had the training he was painfully lacking before. He would not lose again!

His muddied boots began anew, and without a single glance back, he made his way forward, straight into the heart of the mountain.

The tunnels led on, one after the other, twisting and turning into an endless maze that he soon found himself lost. He had no fear about this however, they had found him last time, and they would do so again; especially if he was to help them out a bit.

The blast left his wand with a force, so blinding in its intensity that he feared he may have done it too powerfully. The very walls around him shook with the force of the spell, and crouching low was the only thing that saved him from the shards of rock that shot his way.

He stood as the dust began to settle around him, the light from his wand his only comfort. He heard them now, their rapid footsteps pounding against the stone as they searched for the intruder. Stealth was no longer an issue for them; blood would be the only thing they were after.

He sat with his back against the cold stone wall of the tunnel as he waited the sound of their search drawing nearer and nearer. Sure he had collapsed the passage behind him, but looking through the whole in the wall, he had created another. He wondered how long it would take them to locate it, but from the sound, not long at all.

The light of his wand went out as they rushed into the tunnel, their collective chattering feeling the once silent room with nearly unbearable noise. They would not harm him; he had committed two of the direst crimes they knew, invading their home, and destroying it.

His move had guaranteed him a first class visit to their leader, their move had yet to be seen.

He did not react as they pulled him forcefully to his feet, his items were not taken, and his hands were not bound. He could not defeat them all, he knew this, and they knew this, attempting to escape would only get him killed.

He didn't bother to keep track of the tunnels they entered or left, he had not understood the pattern when he had entered, he still did not understand it now. Perhaps living in here for eons he would finally learn his way around, but he really lacked the desire to do so.

The force applied to his shoulders was enough to force him to his knees, the sound echoing off the cavern's stone walls. The slight muffling of feet entering in soon followed, but after that, the silence came again. It was time.

He raised his head and gazed triumphantly up at the figure standing before him, his eyes locking onto his targets. The black pearls before him shone with shock, but it was soon replaced by rage.

"So…" he said slowly, his monotonous voice filling the chamber leaving no one to guess as to who was in charge.

"You've returned once more, you've come back to us even though I was sure my point had been clear the first time. However," And here he paused, his smirk revealing the blood tainted fangs that protruded from his mouth.

"Not only have you the indecency to return before us, your foul stench filling the entirety of my home, you have the gall to destroy it as well. Perhaps you have come here to die?" His lips thinned as he once more gazed upon Harry, his unresponsive answer pumping fury through his every being.

The rocks pressed deeply into his back as the force of the slam knocked the breath from his lungs, and the wrist wrapped tightly around his neck led him to the severity of the situation.

His gaze brightened as he took in the situation that he was currently occupied with, he had woken a sleeping dragon, and it was time to put it to the test. His gaze now once more locked with the Vampire before him, and as he looked down upon him he realized this is what he would have. He had vowed never to look up at others; it was time he began to look down upon them. That was the last time he would kneel.

He spoke, his voice coming in a slightly pained gasp as he forced the air through his slightly crushed wind pipe. "I challenge you, Lord Mordechai Von Alberict, I challenge you to 'Cruor Ritus' following the rights of section XXXXIV paragraph III of Libri of Nex!"

The look of shock upon von Alberict's face was all the time Harry needed to make his move; the kick came fast and hard as he channeled his magic through the limb. The claws leaving his throat left a few slashes, but he paid them no mind as he focused on the battle that lay ahead.

He barely had time to duck as the slash came for his head, the Vampire covering the ten feet he had flown in not but a second. Sure his preemptive strike had been cheap, sure it may have been unfair, but it had been worth it.

Von Alberict had not challenged him on his rite of passage, and now that the battle had been initiated on both sides, it was null and void. He would finish out this fight to the end, no matter what. It made no difference if Harry's blood was impure... all he had to do was win.

He rolled to his left as the Vampire struck again, and with a sharp flick of his wrist, his wand was in his hand. It was time to even the playing field.

His first curse was a cutting curse, and the Vampire easily dodged it, Harry paid this no mind however, he needed to find out the Vampire's style, and he was well on his way.

"Prosterno, Iuguolo, Exitus, Defungo, Fundo" The spells lit up his wand one after the other, leaving a dark trail behind in each of their wakes. This was the true power that came from using Black Magic, the ability to link them into one another was enthralling, and the force that they carried, it was amazing!

He laughed as he felt its dark power grasp at his soul, his insides churned with pleasure as he let the darkness run free throughout his body. He was in his element now, and even as the cavern began to collapse around him, he felt safe.

He launched himself into the air, the force of his reductor leaving a four meter crater behind him in his wake. The Vampire's moves were now to slow, the objects surrounding him blocking passage to where he needed to go.

The slash to his shoulder did not but distract him for an instant, and in the next he was back on track. The spells firing from his wand at such a speed it was becoming harder and harder for von Alberict to avoid. This would soon be over.

He anticipated the punch that landed on his face and did nothing to block it; the opening it provided was well worth the pain and flashing of his vision. The corruption curse passing straight into the blood suckers unprotected chest.

He grunted as his body hit the floor, the wand flying from his hand and out of reach. It didn't matter he no longer needed it. He rose slowly, trying to count the injuries he had suffered as he closely watched his opponent.

Three broken ribs and a throbbing head pain seemed to be the only injuries he had sustained from that last risk, and even though he hadn't suspected the kick, it had been worth it.

He watched as the once proud Vampire fell to his knees, his head lowered as he attempted to remove the blood from his throat. A position he had been forced to not long ago, a position that he would award those who bowed to him with great favor.

A kick to the bowed creatures face had it laid out flat on its back, its vulnerability open to the world. He smirked, this had been what he waited for, and this had been what he wanted! Another dark laugh erupted from his cracked lips as he observed the wounded creature, now the fun began, he would ensure here and now that he had their support. It was all going according to plan.

The blade slid smoothly out of the depths of his robes and into his hands, the axe haft molded perfectly to fit his hand. He admired the blade as he looked across its surface, no chips, no cracks, not a single flaw was there.

The blade was sharp, slender, the perfect weapon.

The groaning coming from von Alberict was like music to his ears as he listened to him moan. His insides were slowly being dissolved, a most painful way to die. Harry didn't understand as to how something that was already dead could feel pain, but he didn't question his luck, it made his job all the more fun anyway.

The blood curdling scream that left his enemy's mouth set his nerves on fire, and as he watched the blood splatter on top of his blade he couldn't stop. Strike after strike left him, piece after bloodied piece fell apart from the body, until only the upper torso and head remained.

He watched as the eyes moved unblinkingly back and forth in the sockets, he really didn't understand how a vampire could remain alive until his head was separated from his body, but he enjoyed it. With one final stroke the deed was done, the body pieces dissolved into dust as the head rolled into the contaminated pool around them.

His gaze rose to those who began to surround him, his bloodstained clothes and skin made him look quite the sight, he was sure.

He stood and made his way to the pool, his reflection shinning in its simmering depth. He had accomplished his first task; he was one step closer to achieving his goal, and he now had the troops to enact the rest.

* * *

He turned the pages lovingly as he absorbed the knowledge they had within, it had taken him hours of spell work and great frustration to remove the rubble from on top of the library, but it had been worth it. How the fools and the Ministry could leave such a vast collection of knowledge buried beneath these rocks he did not know, but it served his purposes, and he did not care.

He paid no mind to the grime and dust that covered his body as he continued to explore one book after the other. He was drawing nearer to it; he could feel it.

And then, he found it, his heart racing as he gathered it within his arms. One word was what had given it away, one word upon which he had been searching for years. "Horcrux".

His body rose from the rubble-cluttered room as he set out for the exit. His troops would be by soon to obtain these precious books; he had more pressing matters to attend to.

* * *

He watched as her figure panted, her chest rising and falling at a frenzied pace. She would not last much longer; she disappointed him.

Her vocal cords had gone out long before, the long hours of strenuous carving having left her bloodied and almost mad with pain. It wasn't enough! It was never enough, and she, as the rest of the world, would pay for this injustice.

His anger blazed like a wildfire, its un-kindled flames roaring with heat and power. It could not be stopped, it would not be stopped, and he would consume all that stood in his path. He would wait though, his plans were all ready in motion, and it wouldn't be long now. However, he had to wait.

But until then, she would scream!

* * *

The air around him blew with such force that the trees were beginning to uproot… it wouldn't be long now! His dark laugh filled the night air as he increased his power flow to the storm. If magic couldn't locate what he was looking for, then nature would.

He watched as the cloud swirled to his command, the hail peppering the area with ever increasing force. They had not answered his call, and now was the time to send them yet another invite. He couldn't wait to see how they would respond.

The storm ceased for but a second as the funnel hit the ground, and then it began anew, stronger and louder than before. The tornado moved upon his command, his dark magics flowing around and throughout it, he had complete control, and he would use it.

He watched as the earth flew skywards, huge chunks of massive rock flying into the heart of the storm, adding to its bulk and deadliness. His gravity spell that he had cast earlier being the only thing to keep him firmly rooted to the ground.

He silently praised the maker of warming charms, even as the force of the winds ripped his clothing from his body piece by piece, he remained warm. The hail and shrapnel left scratches and cuts over the entirety of his entire body, but he paid them no mind. It was worth it!

And then it happened, the tornado seemed to halt in place, its contents buffeting into what was seemingly not there. And he watched as the winds continued to beat continually down upon the barrier, deep cracks appearing seemingly out of nowhere in a dome like shape; until finally, it broke, the magic shattering and spreading throughout the storm.

He looked on in glee as the storm continued upon its path, its force being led directly to the front door of the manor itself. It would not remain standing.

And then they were there, he sensed them, not by the loud crack of their apparition; the storm blocked it out anyway. He sensed their auras and as he turned around to face them, his naked visage plain for all to see, he smirked.

No words were needed, they had finally answered his call, and now the real fun could begin! With one last laugh that managed to fill the air, despite the roaring of the storm, he disappeared. Rufus Scrimgeor would never see the morning dawn again.

His own anti-floo and anti-apparition wards had seen to that.

* * *

The screams the Dementors gave off when the blades sliced through the seemingly dead skin made his skin crawl. His vampires were making short work of the guards of Azkaban; the once quite air was now filled with their blood curdling screeches.

His insides felt like ice, even breathing seemed to be too much of an effort as the cold penetrated to his lungs. But he would not give in, the memories that pounded through his skull did nothing to slow his advance, in fact it seemed to increase his desire to achieve his goal.

But their effects were weakening; the rest wouldn't last much longer. They would either die, or flee.

He strode passed his soldiers as he entered the great fortress' courtyard. His face was bathed with a green hue as he shot his curse towards the front door. The green flames that consumed the door way parted as he stepped forward… he had work to do.

The deep halls echoed as he continued onward, the enchantments placed upon its walls seemingly blocking the noise from outside. One by one he passed the cells of those who called this place home. Murderers, rapists, corrupt businessmen, he paid them no mind. He was here for one purpose; these fools hardly were worth the time.

The names grew more and more recognizable the further he continued inward, his destination close approaching. The high security prisoners lay just ahead, and with a well aimed Blasting Curse, the guard behind the door never saw tomorrow.

He glanced around casually as he continued down his way, Voldemort's top supporters had all landed there way here, and he had found what he was looking for. Nott, Crab, McNair, Goyle, Bulstrode, Lestrange, and many other names filled the chamber. But they were not who he was looking for, he lay further in, the pain of his betrayal earning him the most miserable place in all of Azkaban; The Dementor's Pit.

The Warden stood before him now, his bulk taking up the entire doorway that led to the room beyond. This was the last obstacle in his path, and as he raised his wand towards his opponent, he laughed. The thought that this fat fool could prevent him from obtaining his goals was preposterous. He had breached one of the most heavily guarded areas on the face of the planet, his army had destroyed hundreds of the most feared creatures on Earth, and one man stood in his way?

The whip of flames leapt from his wand in an instant, and wrapped around the unsuspecting Auror's hand. With a quick pull and the smell of burning flesh the hand was gone; it hit the ground with a dull thud as the Warden cried out in pain.

The Bludgeoning Hex to the man's head knocked him nearly unconscious as he slammed into the wall. But he would not get out of it that easily. He had challenged Harry Potter, and for that he would suffer, he would feel the wrath that would come to all those who opposed him.

The Cruciatus Curse tore him away from the brink of unconsciousness, and into a fresh wave of pain. His hallowed cries filled the corridor like music, and Harry's heart leapt. The dark power flowing through his veins as he held the curse was ecstasy, surely nothing could match this.

The force of the impact that shook the castle startled him, shaking him back to alertness. It would appear the reinforcements have arrived.

"I had thought that with the death of the Minister not but two days ago it would keep them busy for a little longer, but apparently I have underestimated them." He quietly mumbled to himself.

The warden's body continued to twitch as he stripped the keys from his belt loop. His glassy gaze showed the sings of his mentality stronger than any spell would ever do. It was over for him.

The lock clicked dully as he twisted the key, the stone door opening into a spiraling stair case. The sounds of combat reached his ears as he hastened his pace down the moldy steps. The enemy was drawing nearer; he didn't have much time left.

As he stepped into the mildew-infested cavern, his eyes sought that of his prize. Albus Dumbledore stood before him, chained and shackled to the stone pillar in the center of the room.


End file.
